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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581548">Mend What is Torn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/apisdn/pseuds/apisdn'>apisdn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring, Character Study, Geralt displays a shocking number of practical skills besides killing things, M/M, Sewing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:11:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/apisdn/pseuds/apisdn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Geralt can sew, and Jaskier is surprised.</p><p>(But seriously, did you expect that man to make it decades of fighting monsters who regularly tear his clothing without picking up basic life skills?)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>pre Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mend What is Torn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kaer Morhen was no great teacher of practical skills. Certainly, they taught many things--killing, and pain, and cruelty--but not how to live.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Living, however, was incredibly expensive for one who couldn’t manage on their own, so Geralt had learned fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he didn’t want to keep buying meals in taverns, he needed to figure out how to make food that wouldn’t go bad, how to plan the logistics of the journey perfectly and source all that was necessary for himself. If he didn’t want to look like a haystack he’d either need to find a barber who would serve a witcher (impossible) or cut his hair himself (much easier). Most of all, if he didn’t want to be buying clothing or waiting around for a seamstress every time he tore something (which was very, very often what with the lifestyle of the Path) he’d have to do it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first efforts had been pathetic. He’d naively assumed that it would bear some resemblance to sewing up wounds, something he was very competent at. It did not. The tear in his pants had barely held up long enough to make it into town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decades of the Path later, however, Geralt had achieved competence out of pure necessity. He’d learned most of his skills in whorehouses (he’d learned more in those than he ever had in Kaer Morhen, about all sorts of things) but that did not make them any less present. His seams were near nonexistent, and sturdier than most would ever manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>———</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time anyone ever brought it up was years after it had ceased being remarkable. It was Jaskier, of course, who did it quite by accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. And I so liked this doublet too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d been traveling together--or rather Jaskier had been following Geralt around--for nearly a year, and by then Geralt had conceded that sharing a fire and food was only reasonable, even if he still wanted the bard to leave. He squinted at the doublet. “It’s not that bad.” he said, flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had hope that someday the bard would be shamed out of complaining about useless things. Today was not that day. “Not that bad! I can’t wear this! That stupid grasping… whatever it was down that well tore half a sleeve off! And worse, it’s got slime all over it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed. “Put it on the pile.” he said, pointing to the pile in question which included everything that the slime had affected. Jaskier made a noise of muted frustration and did so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go play,” he said “Someone has to pay for the roof over our heads and the man who hired you certainly won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true, the alderman of this tiny village had offered a pittance--perhaps enough for Geralt if he’d been alone and willing to sleep in the woods, but not enough for them both. “I’m having a bath.” said Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Typical.” said Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did send one of the tavern girls upstairs with the washtub, however, so he couldn’t actually be angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt dumped some vinegar on the worst of the stains, left it to soak, and took his bath. The laundry could wait a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>———</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jaskier returned many hours later smelling much like the tavern below them, Geralt was sitting on the bed with a needle and thread working over the bard’s newly clean doublet. (Only because it was the thing that dried the fastest, and Geralt was the one who would have to live with the complaining. It was not because Jaskier liked it).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt you would not believe the--what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt did not dignify that with a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sewing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” said Geralt, wishing the bard would shut up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard would not shut up. “Geralt of Rivia, witcher extraordinaire, is mending the sleeve of my doublet like some kind of wistful maiden. Perchance shall you send me off with an embroidered handkerchief tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt glared at him. The bard was lucky he’d found thread in a vaguely similar color to the dark blue doublet (left over from the last time he’d failed to find black thread).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, I did not mean that mockingly, only… You? Bastion of masculinity? Skilled purveyor of violence across the continent? Able to sew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was fair. If Geralt saw Lambert sewing, for instance, he would also be confused. “Witcher.” he pointed out. “Seamstresses increase prices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskiers face did something odd that Geralt did not feel qualified to interpret. “Well then.” he said. He didn’t say anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt tied off the end of the seam, and handed the doublet back to Jaskier, slime free, and without the gaping hole in the armpit. Jaskier smiled softly. Geralt’s stomach did something he did not feel qualified to interpret. He wondered if he’d eaten something off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there food?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re sending some up.” grinned Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed, and moved on to his own shirt. Jaskier collapsed onto the other side of the large bed and started to babble about the happenings in the tavern downstairs. He was still holding the doublet, and tracing the mend with one long lute-calloused finger, as if there was something remarkable about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing slightly, Geralt resolved to ignore the bard. Cloth tore. He mended it. It was just another step on the Path.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Geralt is secretly a cottagecore gay. For real tho, if you gave that man a house, he would start making his own cheese, he wouldn't be able to help himself.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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